


Beat Goes On

by Foophile



Category: Prison Break
Genre: Drabbles, M/M, Public Displays of Affection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 09:44:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5962762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foophile/pseuds/Foophile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael is by his side, picking from a plate that his brother’s filling up when she leans in the doorway, a smile on her lips.</p><p>Two PDA drabbles originally written in 2010 for Clair_de_lune.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beat Goes On

**Author's Note:**

  * For [clair_de_lune](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clair_de_lune/gifts).



1\. 

A hand on the shoulder, squeezing tight when needed or just laying there to remind the other that he’s around. Leaning against a strong body when tipsy or tired from a long day at work and having long arms wrap around a waist or neck. They feel secure this way. Loved. It’s always been.

*

Michael’s finger hooks into Lincoln’s belt loop as they exit a bar and the girl Lincoln has his arm around gives them both a look. Michael frowns for a second, doesn’t understand what's her problem, until Lincoln pulls away and is snagged. Michael lets go quickly, didn’t even realize how tightly he was holding on, but his finger hurts from the yank. Lincoln breaks the tension with an arm around the both of them, Lincoln’s warm body pressing against the length of Michael’s until he can feel his little brother’s muscles relaxing once again.

*

A hug isn’t common place, but when it’s given it is welcomed. Lincoln hugs like he’ll never see you again. Michael is always pulled in tight, squeezed until he can feel his ribs ache against Lincoln’s solid muscles. Until it’s getting hard to breathe and a stutter of his lungs alerts his brother that it’s time to let go.

But Michael can always feel Lincoln’s heat minutes later, the rasp of his stubble where it scraped Michael’s cheek and vague moisture from a long sigh against his neck.

*

Get-togethers are tiny. Just a few of Michael’s friends from work and Veronica, Lincoln’s only real friend. She’s usually the life of the party, so good at chatting it up with people she doesn’t know that everyone’s fast friends by the end. Lincoln’s stuck in the kitchen serving up hot wings from the oven and pouring drinks.

Michael is by his side, picking from a plate that his brother’s filling up when she leans in the doorway, a smile on her lips. She asks them if they want to play cards and while Lincoln declines, shark that he is, Michael says sure and turns to leave. Lincoln plucks at the side of his shirt and Michael retracts like a yoyo into Lincoln’s open arm. He takes the plate held out and strokes, just for a second the nape of Lincoln’s neck.

When he turns back Veronica’s gone.

*

When Lincoln grabs the front of Michael’s button-up Sara’s almost out of her seat. She’s just noticed them at the entrance of the cantina and Michael left minutes ago for the bathroom. They must have bumped into each other and apparently already clashed over something. Michael did take Lincoln’s moving a little harder than she’d expected.

But instead Michael’s laughing, head back and teeth flashing in a display that Sara’s rarely seen in the three years she’s known him. Michael gestures with his hands then slaps them against Lincoln’s ribs and settles them there when the other man doesn’t let him go.

Sara watches them exchange words, hurried from the look of it, and then Lincoln releases Michael’s shirt to cup his head and press their foreheads together. It’s an intimate moment, so much so that Sara almost looks away, but she trains her eyes on Michael, on how he’s still talking and smiling and closing his eyes and clenching his hands in Lincoln’s t-shirt until they let go of each other. Lincoln’s out the door the next second.

When Michael sits back down with a smile still on his face, Sara forces her face blank as he explains why Lincoln would meet up with them later.

 

2\. 

Lincoln’s wrapped around him and Michael’s so suffused with warmth that he can’t be bothered to move.

He’s never felt so lazy in his life. Not even when they were kids and the summers were nothing but sitting around, bugging their mother to go outside so they can do the same thing on the lawn.

The diner’s slowing down for the night, closing time in an hour, and the waitress has been eyeing their table since Lincoln fed Michael the last of their blueberry cobbler. She can wait. Michael’s belly is filled with carbs and sugar. Lincoln’s dozing on his shoulder like they have all the time in the world. And it almost feels like they do.

The back of Michael’s head sticks to the vinyl when he lifts it. It feels heavy, like his brain weighs more than his neck can carry and when he giggles at the thought, Lincoln stirs next to him. Eyes half open, Lincoln tips his head forward to wedge into Michael’s neck. The arm around his shoulder tightens, as if Lincoln isn’t already half in his lap in the tiny booth, and his brother’s chest traps his arm completely.

Michael can see the waitress roll her eyes from across the room.

He turns to say something when there’s a sharp sting against his neck, hot breath that retracts when Michael jumps in surprise.

“Did you just bite me?”

“No.” Lincoln says too quickly.

Michael grins. “I distinctly felt teeth.”

“You’re high, Michael.” Lincoln breathes into his skin again and Michael tips his head to the side, making more room. He meets the waitress’s eyes and blushes but doesn’t pull away. This is Lincoln’s side of town and he knows no one here, never will.

Plus, like Lincoln said, he’s high and finding it very hard to care.

Outside its beginning to rain and Michael looks at the shadows of people running from the downpour. They should think about leaving soon.

Michael turns to speak again and stops, smiling, when lips press wetly into his skin and linger.

“We should go,” Lincoln mutters and Michael feels every word sink into his bones.

END


End file.
